Tacitus Chyllom

What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthy thing is it; what cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm?
This whole act's immutably decreed. 'Twas rehearsed by thee and me a billion years before this ocean rolled.
Fool! I am the Fates' lieutenant; I act under orders.